The Sum of These Things

Sign up for our newsletter to hear

about new and upcoming releases.

www.ylva-publishing.com

Other Books by Emily O’Beirne

A Story of Now Series

A Story of Now

(Book #1)

The Sum of These Things

(Book #2)

THE SUM OF THESE THINGS

Emily O’Beirne

Acknowledgements

Once again I thank Astrid and Sheri at Ylva, and also Shannon. And a huge sincere thank you goes to the readers of A Story of Now who wrote to me to tell me how the book made you feel, or just to say you enjoyed it. It made my day every time.

For Judith and Ian, for making a reader of me.

Table of Contents

Other Books by Emily O’Beirne

Acknowledgements

The Sum of These Things

About Emily O’Beirne

Other Books from Ylva Publishing

Coming from Ylva Publishing

CHAPTER 1

Hani, the community centre manager, is super serious. She delivers a rapid-fire monologue at them as she strides around the big, dark hall. She clearly expects them to follow, both in her footsteps and her explanation of how the place works. While she talks, her eyes move constantly as she gauges all activity around her, computing. Claire watches, compelled partly by her brisk, commanding manner but also by the way she so finely tiptoes the line between pleasant and totally uninterested in them. It’s kind of fascinating. She’s constantly just on the right side of polite. This is something Claire has never managed that well for herself, not even when she tries.

Hani addresses them as if she has delivered this spiel a thousand times before, met potential volunteers a thousand times before, too. And she probably has, Claire thinks as she shuffles along with the small group and tries to keep up with all the information being thrown at them.

She can tell from the way Hani constantly words her phrases to say "if you’re still here in a few weeks or if you stay until the end of summer" that she doesn’t expect much from them, that she’s already resigned to the fact that they might fall by the wayside. Moi already mentioned to Claire that they have had a hard time keeping volunteers for the summers past, that many start eager and then quickly drop out when they realise it’s an actual commitment. And this is the reason why Moi called this weekend and implored Claire once again to come and check it out.

Hani speaks to them differently, too. Her tone shifts from a polite briskness to a more familiar and friendly manner whenever she addresses one of her co-workers or a kid. That’s when Claire starts to realise that maybe she doesn’t bother to commit to friendliness until she sees if they stick. Claire can’t blame her really, either. It would be too tiring, too demoralising otherwise.

When Claire first walked in, Hani’s manner didn’t help her nerves much. Claire was so worried about being late that she was a little early. She’d already nearly talked herself out of coming in the first quiet moments of morning when she woke up and remembered what she was supposed to do with her Monday, her promise to Moi to at least check out the place. As she lay there in the safety of her bedroom and thought of showing up at the centre by herself, she was immediately nervous. If it wasn’t for the fact that she gave her word to Moi, who would do anything for her, she probably would have convinced herself not to go at all. Instead she’d spend her summer days lying around, doing whatever, wallowing in the wondrous idea of having nothing to do for days on end. But she couldn’t, not when she told Moi she would do it. If Claire’s parents taught her one thing, it’s to always do what she says she will do.

So she swallowed her fears and went.

When she entered the hall, she was greeted by the sight of a bunch of kids, all under twelve or so. They all screamed and laughed as they gathered around a couple of adults handing out water pistols and colourful plastic containers.

You know the rules! a large guy with shaggy brown hair bellowed. You don’t wear sunscreen, you don’t play. No water or dripping people inside the hall, and NO throwing water at strangers!

It was Hani who first noticed her timid, hands-deep-in-pockets entrance and left the group to come over to her. The first thing Claire noticed was how fragile-looking Hani is. Tall and narrow, she is almost shockingly thin and birdlike, with a long, skinny face. She’s not pretty, necessarily, but her features are finely drawn and her dark eyes huge and intelligent.

As Claire meekly introduced herself, Hani appraised her. Moi’s friend, right? she asked with a light accent Claire couldn’t recognise.

She nodded, still feeling shy.

Welcome, Hani said briskly and shook her hand.

Thank you, Claire mustered and gave her a nervous smile in return.

Greetings done, Hani immediately turned to the group of kids. We’ll get started when the others get here, okay?

Claire nodded and waited by the door of the hot, un-air-conditioned hall. She watched the kids scream and run past her into the yard, armed and already planning their attacks and factions and strategies.

And she stayed nervous until she realised nothing is really expected of her today. This is just an introductory visit to see how the place runs. Training begins next week.

As Hani tells them about the excursion the older kids have taken to the local swimming pool, Claire looks at the small bunch of would-be volunteers. Of the five, there is just one guy—thickset, around Claire’s age, with a huge rope of dreadlocks tied on top of his head. There is a tall girl with braided hair and glasses who takes copious, frantic notes in a small blue notebook as if she’s worried she will be tested on this later.

At one point, when Hani stops to answer a staff member’s questions, the girl stops scribbling in her book and smiles at Claire. You’re a social work student, too, right?

Claire shakes her head.

Oh, really? I thought we all were.

Claire shrugs. She doesn’t bother to explain about Moi or why she’s here. They’ll have time for that later.

There’s also a short blonde girl with her wrist in a cast and a whopper of a bruise near her shoulder. A soccer injury, she explained when she arrived. The last girl, who has been silent the whole time except to say her name, a name Claire didn’t catch, is beautiful, with long, silky black hair and perfect skin. She looks visibly nervous, too. She keeps her hands constantly clasped behind her back, and her gaze fixed on any point in the room but them. Claire fleetingly wonders if she looks as obviously nervous to the others.

We try and take the kids out as much as possible, Hani continues as Claire tunes back in. But of course we’re limited by what funding we can get during the year for the summer program, and if parents give permission and—Hey Jamal! Hani suddenly yells out mid-sentence.

Everyone watches as Hani turns toward a scrawny little blond kid with a haircut uncannily similar to Robbie’s who, until this moment, has been strolling casually across the far side of the hall.

At Hani’s call, the boy freezes mid-step, arms comically held out. He turns super slowly toward Hani with a cheeky uh-oh look on his face.

Watcha doing? Hani asks him. She folds her arms and holds one eyebrow so high it nearly reaches the edge of her emerald headscarf.

Nothing, he sings, all innocence.

Then where are you going?

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just screws up his freckled nose and grins. Then he slowly raises a hand and points his finger in the direction of the kitchen and flinches.

And what’s the rule about the kitchen? Hani sighs as she says it, but she looks kind of amused.

You can only go in there if you’re helping, he recites as if he’s heard this decree a gazillion times before. Claire suppresses a smile.

And have you been asked to help?

He shakes his head slowly.

"Then get, Hani tells him, flicking her thumb toward the door. And dump a bucket of water on Paul’s head for me while you’re there."

Okay! he yells excitedly as he leaps out the door, arms akimbo.

Hani shakes her head and sighs, her business face back on. Some of the kids have mild food issues, so they’re constantly crying hungry. They aren’t starving or anything by a long shot, but some of them haven’t always had regular meals, so they spend a lot of time wondering when and where the next one is coming from. But when they’re here, they’re fed. Don’t worry. We make sure of it. Any kid can get free breakfast from us in the morning if they don’t get it at home, and they’re given lunch too, of course. So don’t believe them if they play hungry puppy at you. And they will, she adds. "And please enforce the kitchen rule. Paul and Lisa, who run it, will let you know if they need any kids to help with prep.

Obviously, we’ve got kids from all kinds of cultural backgrounds here. All the kids speak English, of course, but it isn’t always the case with parents and guardians. You’ll learn more about that in training, but just to give me an idea, does anyone speak a second language? she asks.

The guy shakes his head. So does the tall girl and the blonde. The tall, black-haired girl raises her hand to a tentative shoulder level as if even she doubts her own response.

What do you speak? Hani asks her with a gentle smile.

Vietnamese, she says with a lilt of it in her voice.

That’s great. We have quite a few Vietnamese families here. We deal with a lot of grandparents, and it will be really helpful when we need to explain excursions and things to some of them.

The girl nods.

Hani turns to Claire.

Claire shrugs. Just French.

Hani gives her a rueful smile and leads them toward the kitchen. Probably not going to help much around here.

Claire nods and tries to quell the blush spreading quickly over her face. She already knew it probably wouldn’t be that helpful here. She shouldn’t have even mentioned it.

Maybe you should go be a rich kids’ nanny in South Yarra, the hippie guy jokes as they follow Hani toward the kitchen.

Claire crosses her arms and ignores him, completely embarrassed now.

CHAPTER 2

Claire pushes open the door, steps inside, and is nearly stopped in her tracks by the burst of cool air. She takes in a deep breath and runs a hand over the back of her sweaty neck, glad to be off the street and in the comforting arms of air-conditioning.

It is disgusting out. It’s the kind of ceaseless, windless dry day that causes the city to turn against itself and everyone in it. The roads become soft and untrustworthy under foot. Metal surfaces turn vindictively hot. And the footpaths are suddenly claustrophobically narrow, making it impossible to move without the risk of knocking into—or even just brushing against—another equally hot, irritable person.

It’s the kind of day to be anywhere but inner Melbourne. It’s a day where, if you’re smart, you’ll hide in the sheltering realm of an air-conditioned room or stay moored as close as humanly possible to a body of cool water.

But if you’re an idiot, an unwise idiot—as Claire suspects she might be after that short walk from the air-conditioned confines of her car to this place—you’re deep in inner-suburban Melbourne with no plan to get out.

But there is some sort of reward for her efforts. First, they seem to have remembered to turn on the air-con since last time she was in this place. The crowded, shrill café is almost chilly, even with the crowd of bodies that take up most of the tables and benches, their collective body heat battling the flow of cool air. The edge has been taken off the day, and suddenly it’s possible to breathe.

She didn’t come here for the cool, but she’ll take it. She didn’t come here for the other reward either, but she receives it happily too. Because at work behind the counter is Mia. A carton of milk held high in her hand, she’s mid-laugh, head tipped back, shoulders shaking. The girl she’s working with is clearly mid-story, the kind of tale that requires wild gesticulations of her hands and much laughter from Mia.

Claire smiles a teeny, indulgent smile to herself. She was reluctant to meet Robbie in this roaring heat today, but for the bonus collateral sighting of Mia, it suddenly feels like an incredibly good idea to be in the city.

The last time she was in her presence was that afternoon at Claire’s house last week when they sat in the cool green grass and laid everything out between them. Only then was Claire finally made privy to everything Mia has been feeling but did not tell her these past weeks. Well, perhaps not everything—not yet—but enough that Claire can finally make sense of her inconsistent, contradictory behaviour. Enough that Claire finally knows how she feels.

They haven’t been able to see each other since, though, in what feels like another marathon five days apart. Mia had to go and visit her grandmother again for the weekend and then had more postgrad interviews, and Claire has worked most nights in an attempt to make up for the lost time from their holiday at the lake.

They have spoken to each other, though, with fevered regularity. But now, as she looks at her laughing behind the counter, Claire is reminded all over again why a phone call, however long, is a meagre replacement for seeing her.

She thrusts her hands into the pockets of her jeans and approaches the counter. It is decorated with tinsel for Christmas. Mia passes a cup to a large man with dark patches of sweat that mushroom from the underarms of his business shirt. Claire feels a flicker of sympathy for him as he passes her clutching his drink, his ruddy face blazing red.

But her attention is immediately snatched back by Mia who has seen her coming. She leans with her arms casually folded over the top of the counter, her chin on her elbow, a pleased, private smile on her face.

Claire struts slowly toward her, pretending to take her sweet time, but her heart rate quickens in anticipation.

Mia narrows her eyes affectionately. Hey.

Hi. Claire bites at her bottom lip in a poor effort to quell her own smile. She grips the edges of the wooden surface, her fingers only tantalising inches from Mia’s.

Robbie said you were meeting him.

Yeah, I’d much rather be at home with the air-conditioning on, though.

Well, I’m glad you’re here.

In the mood to tease, Claire simply ignores her. Where’s Robbie?

Out the back. Aileen made him sort stock because he was late this morning. Punishment. It’s not really working, though. She grins. Because he’s so hungover right now I think he prefers it to dealing with the customers.

Claire smiles. That’s how she feels every day, hangover or not.

So, how are you?

Hot. It’s gross out there.

I bet. Mia stands and looks at the row of orders that have collected on the rail above her head. I’d better get back to work. Do you need coffee?

I kind of do, but it’s too hot.

Iced?

Uh-uh. Claire grimaces. I hate all that cream and gross sweet syrup crap in them.

Fussy. Mia smiles and picks up a jug of milk. Don’t worry; I’ll make you one you’ll like. Not too sweet. Promise.

Okay. Claire pulls out her wallet.

Mia holds her hand up. I’ll buy. In case you hate it and resent me. Sit down and I’ll bring it over. I might be able to go on break for a minute, too.

Claire sits at one of the large communal tables and watches people walk into the café. They freeze, stunned like she was, as they suddenly register, and then relish in, the onslaught of cool air.

It’s only a few minutes before Mia comes over holding two glasses filled with icy milky liquid and coated in condensation already. She puts one in front of Claire, drops a straw in it, and then sits next to her.

Robbie said to tell you he’ll be done in ten. She sighs. Lucky. Meanwhile, I’ve got fifteen minutes before I have to go back until close.

Poor you. And Claire means it. The frustrating part is, if Mia finished work earlier, they could actually hang out together for a while. But by the time Mia is done, Claire will be just about to start her shift at the bar. Their work timetables are stupidly incompatible. It’s so annoying.

Claire takes a sip of her drink, an ice-cold milky coffee that is, as promised, not too sweet. The chilly liquid soothes as it courses through her.

You like?

It’s cold coffee, Mia.

Mia gives her a look. Yeah, cold coffee without all the crap you hate in it. Upon madam’s request.

And because she can’t help to stir, Claire shrugs again, non-committal. Then she takes another sip and finally turns to Mia with a reluctant smile. It’s really good.

I know, Mia says blithely as if she never bought Claire’s crap for a second anyway. Then she leans her chin on her hand and stares at Claire, a small smile on her face.

Claire smiles back for a moment. But then, rendered inexplicably shy, she looks away and plays with her straw. It feels strange to be the two of them again, only out in the world now.

So, how was your thing yesterday? At the community centre?

It was okay. The people are mostly nice, I think. I was kind of nervous. She frowns. I don’t know why.

Because it’s new? New things always make me nervous even if I know I’m going to like them.

Claire nods. Maybe that’s it. No, she thinks. It’s not just that. Maybe I’m scared I’ll be terrible at it? she suggests to test what she already knows is the more likely theory.

What? Why would you be terrible at it?

I don’t know. How do I know I won’t be?

Mia shakes her head slowly, resolute. You won’t be terrible at it. Not even a little bit.

Claire shrugs again. She doesn’t want to think about it too much in case she thinks herself out of doing it at all. So she rests her arms on the table and changes the subject.

Speaking of nervous, how was your last school interview?

Actually, fine, Mia says as if she’s surprised by the fact. I wasn’t really nervous. I don’t know if it’s just because I know what to expect now, but it was so much easier this time.

That’s great.

"Or maybe I was just more nervous for the Melbourne interview because I really want to get in there."

Makes sense.

Mia lays her palms flat on the table and stares at them. I really want to stay here to go to school.

Well, I really want you to stay here, too.

Mia takes in a slow breath and smiles at her.

"You are not allowed to go now." Claire shakes her head, vehement. She says it partly because it’s true, but also partly because she wants Mia to keep looking at her like that.

I know, Mia whispers.

Because that would be some insanely shitty timing, Mia.

I know. Then she narrows her eyes, and the grin turns sly on her face.

What?

Nothing. Except that I really want to kiss you right now.

And before Claire, who instantly blushes, can think of a single thing to say to that, Mia keeps talking.

Don’t worry; I won’t. I know how you feel about PDAs. She elbows her gently. I remember that day here, just after I met you, with Nina and what’s-his-face. How grossed out you were by them.

Well yeah, Mia, PDAs are gross. And that was particularly gross.

Mia laughs and pulls her coffee closer to her and traces patterns with her finger on the wet glass. But just so you know, I really, really want to.

I got that, Mia. But can’t you just sit here and enjoy my sparkling wit and captivating conversation without being all shallow and distracted?

Well stop being flirty and hot then.

Claire raises her hands. I’m not doing anything.

Yes, but you don’t have to. You’re just kind of hot by nature.

And that’s my fault?

Yes. Then she smiles at her and sighs. Okay, it’s not really.

So then how am I supposed to do anything about it?

I don’t know, but I wish you would because it’s making it very hard for me not to kiss you.

Well, I’m deeply sorry for that, Mia. How terrible of me to torture you in such a fashion.

You should be. Anyway, if I can’t kiss you, I’m going to hold your hand under the table like a teenager then, okay? And she moves her hand under the table until it rests on Claire’s leg. Claire reflexively responds, and their hands quickly take possession of each other in a tender slide of fingers over palm.

Okay, Claire agrees, even though the deed is done. She feels her cheeks turn faintly pink under Mia’s frank, almost coquettish stare.

It’s almost hard to reconcile this light, flirty Mia with the reticent, withdrawn Mia of the recent past. It seems now they have really talked about what they are, she’s back to being herself again—the confident, laidback version of Mia she first met months ago. And Claire likes it. A lot.

She squeezes her fingers, and Mia smiles back and rubs a thumb across the back of Claire’s hand. It sends a small, inescapable thrill through her.

Claire leans a little closer. So, when can we—

Well hello, lesbians.

Claire jumps. It’s Robbie, of course. He plonks himself in a chair and runs his hands violently back and forth through his hair until it stands as high as he wants it to. He hangs his abandoned apron over his shoulder and looks back and forth between the two of them with an evil grin.

Claire loosens her grip on Mia’s hand, but she doesn’t let it go. She does serve him a filthy look, though. Robbie—always a reality check.

Before she can say anything, though, he leans forward. "So, very important question, are we being secret lesbians?"

Claire stares at him and rues the flush that she knows is spreading over her cheeks.

Only because Eli is on his way, and I need to know if I can make gloriously inappropriate comments about you two in front of him yet or not.

No you can’t, Mia tells him in a flat voice.

Okay. He shrugs. You keep me posted. And so long as I can tease you while no one else is around.

Mia shrugs and grips Claire’s hand a little tighter under the table. Do whatever you like, Robbie.

Claire sips of her own drink and avoids looking at either of them. She’s surprised by Mia’s firm response. Not that she really knew what to expect. They only just started to talk to each other about what has happened between them. They certainly haven’t got anywhere near a conversation about anything like that yet. Still, she hadn’t expected Mia to be quite so vehement. Not to the point of stern. She’s not sure she’s ever really heard Mia be stern.

Robbie holds up a hand as if to fend her off. Okay, anyway, it’s totally your business. I was just curious. And, just so you know, I completely approve, that’s all. He turns to Claire who is still trying to stem the blush. You still going to come and check out this gallery?

Sure. She’s actually looking forward to hanging out with him, especially now she knows he’s going to mind his own business.

I wish I could come with you guys, Mia moans. Then she sits straighter, smiles past Robbie, and waves at someone. There’s Eli and Nan.

Claire looks across the café. Eli is headed towards them with a tall girl who has the same tight black curls and brown eyes as him.

Hola, bitches, the girl says cheerfully, hands on hips. Eli sits with a sigh, looking hot and sweaty.

Mia lets go of Claire’s hand and claps her own together excitedly. Hey! Are you about to start work? she asks the girl.

The girl nods and stands behind Robbie. She gives his shoulders a squeeze and pulls an apron from under her arm. Yup. She pushes her short curls back from her face. She’s long and strong looking, with muscular shoulders and a striking, angular face.

Oh awesome. Mia leans back in her seat. That’ll make the rest of this shift tolerable.

The girl grins. I’m late. I better get in there before the boss lady loses it again. You guys still going to come out tonight?

I am, Robbie says. Mia nods.

Great. I’ll see you later then. She turns on her heel. Claire watches her saunter away, curious about this new charismatic presence that everyone else seems to already know.

That’s Eli’s cousin, Nan, Robbie tells her as if he can tell what she’s thinking.

Yeah. Hi Claire. Eli kisses her on the cheek. That’s my genius cousin.

She’s crazy intelligent. Robbie sighs. I flat out refuse to talk politics with her. She terrifies me. He checks his phone. Hey, we should go. The gallery we’re checking out is only open for another forty minutes.

I better get back to work. Mia turns to Claire. Are you working tonight?

Yep.

Want to come out after? Nan told us about this new place not far from the campus. She says it’s really fun.

Sure, if it’s not too late. I have a stupid brunch with my parents tomorrow. But I could come for a bit.

Let’s go, team, Robbie commands as he takes the apron from around his neck and stuffs it in his bag. He gets up and flings his arm around Eli’s neck as they head for the door.

Mia smiles shyly. "Please come out tonight. I want to see you."

Mia. Claire rolls her eyes, but reaches surreptitiously under the table and grasps her knee. I’ll come out tonight.

Yes! Mia does a silly little fist pump as she stands. You and I, we’re going to dance, dammit.

And Claire laughs. "Goodbye, Mia."

CHAPTER 3

Claire holds her ID in front of the doorman, pockets it, and slides through the front door into the sticky air of the crowded bar. She’s instantly stopped in her tracks by the magnitude of the space. From the outside, it hadn’t looked that imposing, just a set of nondescript doors manned by an oddly cheerful thug dressed in a bomber jacket despite the pervasive heat.

The place is higher than it is wide. It has exposed red brick walls, dizzyingly high ceilings, and tall, dusty windows. There are rusted iron fittings still affixed to the walls and ceilings, their purpose now purely, arbitrarily, decorative. There is even a metal staircase that starts to climb from partway up the wall, leading wilfully nowhere and covered in trailing green plants that seem to thrive in the oppressive tropical swelter of the club.

She thrusts her hands in her jeans pockets and combs the crowds in search of a familiar face. Half the cavernous space is taken up with groups of people huddled around jugs of beer and cocktails as they talk and laugh and compete to be heard over the music and their own echoes. Together they create one giant wall of sound.

When she finally spots Robbie and Eli at a large table not far from the bar, they’re so intensely immersed in their conversation they don’t see her coming. She walks slowly and hopes it’s not an argument she’s walking in on.

Robbie notices her first.

Claire! He immediately reaches for the jug of beer and an empty glass and pours her a drink.

Hey guys. She sits next to Eli. This place is huge.

Yeah. Robbie nods. Nan was right. It’s kind of awesome, too

I guess.

What do you mean you guess? Eli points at the ceiling. Check that out.

Don’t you know, Eli, that Claire’s default setting is unimpressed? Robbie grins at her.

Claire flings him a death stare and looks up. Her eyes widen as she takes in the vines that hang way above her, cascading toward the floor.

That is actually kind of cool.

Anyway, Claire, settle an argument for us, Eli says loudly over the din. He grabs the beer Robbie’s poured for her and passes it over. She takes it gratefully.

What?

How many times a day should you feed a cat?

"How the hell should I know? And why the hell would I want to know?"

Because I think three times a day is too much, Eli says. And Robbie insists it’s normal to feed them that much.

What is not normal, Claire points out. Is that you two are spending your night discussing this.

Eli pulls an eek face, laughs, and turns to Robbie. You know, she might be right.

I know she is. Robbie sighs and shakes his head. Oh God, this is what I’ve become?

Claire laughs. Besides, isn’t that what Google is for? To answer these kinds of questions? And why are you even talking about this anyway? And then she remembers. Oh, this is about that fat cat you inherited, right? The neighbour’s cat? What’s its stupid name again?

Patty. And she’s not stupid. Robbie grins. She’s just a little gravity challenged.

Yeah, I saw those photos, remember? I have no idea what other cats get, but I don’t think that cat should be fed three meals a day.

That’s what I said. Eli holds his hands up and gives Robbie a smug look. It’s not healthy.

Aw, so cute, Claire mocks. You boys, having your little parenting argument.

She’s just about to ask them where Mia is when the girl from the café, Nan, strides up to the table. She looks hot and annoyed.

Hey. Robbie grins at her. Where have you been?

Don’t ask. She swipes an arm across her brow. She pulls a face. Can you believe I got pulled over by the cops for riding on the footpath? I mean come on. She rolls her eyes. Seriously? Who gets ticketed for that? It’s not like I was doing anything that bad. One cop was all like, ‘You should be more responsible. You could have run down a small child.’ She drops into a seat. Aside from the fact that I had my lights on and was on the footpath for, like, all of two minutes, it’s eleven thirty at night. What parent lets their little kid run around the streets now, anyway?

Hi cousin. Eli holds his beer up in casual greeting as if she hasn’t stormed in ranting. Or maybe he’s completely used to this kind of tirade.

I can’t stand the cops in this city. Thanks. Nan takes the beer Robbie passes to her. Wasting their freaking time ticketing me for something completely insignificant, when there are people out there doing some seriously messed up criminal stuff while I’m just riding my bike down the street minding my own business. They should be doing their real jobs.

Claire stares at her.

Hey Nan. Robbie, of course, looks suitably amused. Meet our friend Claire. Claire’s brother is a cop.

So was my godfather. Claire takes a blithe sip of her beer and waits for the inevitable backpedal. And my father was for a few years, too.

Oh, hey, Claire. Nan’s eyes flicker slightly, but that is the extent of her reaction. Then she leans forward and yanks off her T-shirt so she’s just in a black tank top, her strong, perfectly straight shoulders exposed. She picks up her beer again. Well, maybe you can tell them for me that there are much more important things for police to do in this hot mess of a city than wasting their time picking on cyclists. Cyclists who are only trying to lower pollution by riding instead of driving.

For a moment, Claire’s body matches the stilling in the air around her as Robbie and Eli wait for her to react. Usually she wouldn’t even bother. Usually she doesn’t have to because people nearly always about-face on comments once they hear her brother is a cop. But this cousin of Eli’s is particularly obnoxious. And Claire is irritated by her aggressive opinions, even though she doesn’t want to be. Even though she’d like to just let this slide right past her.

Uh, okay, Claire tells her slowly as she eyes Nan over her beer. I’ll just call my brother, will I? He’s kind of busy though. He just got assigned to help investigate a factory that might be using unpaid labour. I’d call my godfather, too. But he was killed five years ago helping during the bushfires. She leans forward. But I’ll be sure and call my brother and tell him to stop harassing you, shall I? Because clearly he’s completely wasting his precious work time.

She sits back in her seat, crosses her arms, and waits. The table is dead silent.

Nan looks at her for a moment. Then she suddenly raises her glass in Claire’s direction. Point completely and utterly taken. Then she smiles and turns to Robbie. Did you find a decent gallery space today?

So, Claire, Eli says, clearly trying to move on, "how was work?

She turns to him, still annoyed. Fine. She isn’t in the mood to chat right now. Where’s Mia?

Because Mia is the reason Claire is here and maybe now the only reason she will stay.

Dancing, I think. With Pete. He puts a hand on her wrist. Just ignore Nan. She can get kind of…opinionated, sometimes.

She didn’t bother me, Claire lies. She stands and flashes him a brief smile. I’m going to find the others.

She finds Mia eventually, a blur of motion amidst the crush of bodies on the dance floor. Pete is with a petite girl in a bright blue dress, her hair scraped into a high bun on top of her head. He grins and waves at Claire as she slips between the moving bodies to get closer to them. Claire flicks an eyebrow and a sly smile at him. She wonders if he brought this girl with him or if he found her here.

Mia doesn’t notice her arrival though. She’s too far into the dance. Claire smiles, enjoying the opportunity to take her in when she doesn’t know she’s being watched. Mia has a small smile on her face, her arms held out at her sides. She looks surprisingly fresh given the cloying air, as if she’s made for hot weather.

Then she realises she’s just standing there like a weirdo in the mass of people, being bumped by dancing bodies as she takes in the sight of Mia. She steps right up to Mia and invades her space for a moment, capturing her attention. Mia sweeps a hand through her hair, which is smooth and untangled for once, and looks up. She sees Claire and breaks into a bigger smile.

Hey! she calls happily into the din. You’re here.

Her eyes look bigger, darker, as if she might be wearing makeup. And they shine brightly as she beams at Claire. Claire has never seen her wear makeup—or never noticed it at least. She smiles coyly at Mia and dances beside her, unreasonably happy to be here on a dance floor with her.

As they move to the loud music, they occasionally catch each other’s eye and smile. And Claire’s taken back to that night at that party. It seems like a thousand years ago, already. But it can only have been a month or so ago, that night when they spent those crazy, unbridled hours on the dance floor together, and Claire started to realise she was having more fun with this geeky, gorgeous girl she had nothing in common with than she’d had in a long time. And, of course, that was the night they first kissed—a drunken encounter Claire still has trouble recalling with any semblance of clarity. Now, with the gift of hindsight, she really wishes she could remember that moment, one that was possibly—probably—so pivotal for them. She wonders how much was unconsciously set in motion for her that night.

They stay there on the dance floor until the heat that radiates from the growing crush of bodies around them begins to become too much.

Drink? Pete finally hollers at them. The girl grabs onto the pocket of his jeans, and they file through the crowd. Pete leads the way. His tall frame creates a slipstream through the jostle. Claire trails Mia, her gaze locked on the tanned, sweat-dampened span of her upper back. Unable to resist, she quickens her step and moves a little closer. She presses one finger into Mia’s waist and leans in over her shoulder. You look really great tonight, Claire whispers in her ear.

Mia turns to her with a charmed smile on her face. She grabs Claire’s hand, squeezes it briefly, and drops it. Claire pushes her hands into her pockets and tries to stifle her small, smitten smile before the others see it.

* * *

Robbie pouts. Promise me you’re not leaving because we fought about the cat in front of you.

Claire laughs. Because that would be embarrassing, right?

Exactly, Eli agrees. He points a finger at Robbie. I do not want to become that couple.

Hey. Robbie holds up his hands. Who says it’s my fault if we do?

Eli rolls his eyes. I wasn’t saying that.

Well, don’t point at me all accusing like that.

Uh, guys? Claire interjects. You’re becoming those people right now.

Eli slaps a hand over his mouth. Sorry, he mumbles.

I don’t care. I’m leaving remember? You two try and not kill each other. She smiles and kisses Eli on the cheek. Or that cat.

She turns to Robbie. Eli’s right. You cannot feed that cat three times a day. It’s practically animal cruelty.

Robbie laughs. I hate you.

Claire smiles at him. And before she can stop herself, she pulls him into a fierce hug. She loves Robbie. Of all the myriad great, weird, and awful things that have happened lately, becoming his friend has been one of the truly good things.

As she pulls back he shoots her a questioning smile. She shrugs and throws him a dirty look to even things out. She heads to the bar where Mia and Nan stand with Pete.

Pete is telling a story. The girl he was dancing with holds his hand. Claire smiles. Finally, Pete has pulled. It’s about time, too.

And that is why I will never, ever, play hockey again. Pete laughs, clearly at the tail end of a story.

Mia smiles at Claire as she joins them but says nothing.

Nan laughs. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.

Claire looks at her and briefly wonders if she’s straight or gay.

I need to find the men’s. Pete turns to the girl. You be okay?

The girl nods.

Nan laughs again. It’s okay; you can leave her with the big scary lesbian. I promise I won’t try and convert her.

Claire blinks at the stunning rapidity with which her question was answered.

I didn’t mean it like that.

I know. Go pee. We’ll get a drink. She turns to the girl. Jessica, right?

Jessica nods.

Jessica, you need a drink? Nan grins, all dash and charm.

Claire raises an eyebrow.

Jessica laughs. Yeah, I definitely need a drink.

Nan turns to Mia. When she sees Claire next